Anamnesis
by Crimnatic
Summary: Shoot a man, leave him on the brink of death, almost eviscerate his family, and what do you get? You get Will Lamontagne Jr., coping with his (new) role as a husband; existing roles as a father and a detective; and struggling with his new-found progressive memory loss. Anamnesis: what happens when his mind goes a blank?
1. Post-Wedding Clues

The noose-like object slithered around his neck, and then draped downwards. He could hear the raucous clangour from outside: the sound pouring in endlessly from the upstairs room. His palms began to sweat profusely; his mind just drifting as his hands loosened the tie. Will hated wearing ties, but this was an occasion he could not refuse to: his wedding night. In a whirlwind week, he had been shot, almost lost his family, and _finally_ convinced _his_ ethereal goddess, Jennifer Jareau, to marry him. This was it. This was the night he'd been waiting for since that fateful July day in 2009.

…..

_JJ was already pregnant with what was going to be their blonde, boisterous son, Henry. Her bump was beginning to become increasingly conspicuous, and needless to say, Will was nervous, although he tried hiding it every morning as he woke up to his alabaster goddess. It was hot in D.C., but it was something he had already gotten used to in Louisiana anyway. The morning sunlight poured through the seams in the curtains and crack in the middle of the blankets, heating it up to a point where JJ could no longer stand it. She stirred awake, tossing the blanket off as best as she could with the protruding bump for relief._

_"I'll get that." Will mumbled in his usual accent. He didn't bother to pretend to be asleep that morning, which he usually did. Truth was, as the days flew by, he became more anxiety-stricken, taunted constantly with the thought of fatherhood. Of course, he would eventually be a great father, but he couldn't have known it then. He had proposed to JJ earlier, to which she respectfully declined, and had slightly petrified him. The word 'slightly' was an understatement, given the, albeit, numerous cases of domestic trouble he had seen as a cop. Sure, he'd loved her, and never hesitated to tell her so, but she was the complete opposite, rather reticent for the most part. He wasn't confident about anything, really, and the fumbling mess and disorientation he was in D.C. didn't quite provide him with any sense of relief.  
"What time is it?" JJ asked, rubbing her sore eyes. _

_"Seven-ten, sweetheart." He replied with a small smile._

…..

There was a soft knock on the door, and then it creaked open, the sound aggravating enough that Will gritted his teeth. For some reason, he'd begun reacting to otherwise normal sounds since his last case, which made it both frustrating and concerning to him.

"I've been meaning to fix that annoying squeak." Rossi smirked. "Are you ready?" He then asked, swinging his jacket around his own shoulders.

"Yeah, uh- am I late?" Will asked, clearing his throat, regaining composure.

"You can't be late for your own wedding. Trust me- I've had three." Rossi smirked.

"What time is it then?" Will asked, tightening his rosy peach tie, which made him very uncomfortable.

"Seven-ten." Rossi replied, as Will finally took a last look in the elongated mirror. Turning around, Rossi escorted him down the flight of hollow stairs, and towards the large, grandiose backyard, where slow music blared into the night sky.

"It's time." Rossi whispered, as Will made it to the levelled podium, right next to a priest. This _was_ it. Will nodded, and for a while, he had almost forgotten why he was there, and why he was in the suit, and that derisory tie. He pursed his lips together into a tight line, and as JJ walked out arm folded in her mother's, in her perennially stunning dress, he finally recalled, snapping out of the long reverie. It was _probably_ the nerves.

* * *

That night went smoothly, which led to a quixotic morning afterwards when Will awoke with JJ in his arms, her head tucked in the crook of his shoulder. Needless to say, they had an exhausting night, and in more ways than one. For the first time for as long as he could remember, he was alone with JJ. Reid, Emily and Garcia had taken Henry out for a sleepover for JJ and Will to enjoy the day _completely_ off. Then again, he actually couldn't remember much- the last memory of Henry was strangely the night he had returned from the hospital because of the seizure, which _really_ had not occurred long ago. Will kept his eyes shut, unwilling to spoil it for JJ- who deserved her rest. The alarm clock went off almost on cue, which jolted Will upright, the uncanny beeping sound triggering some sort of mild hysteria. JJ awoke, as her head plummeted onto the pillow.

"_Crap_, we forgot to turn it off yesterday night. Somethings _never_ change, huh?" JJ mumbled with shuteyes, as Will ran his fingers through his hair, and settled back next to her. She put her arm around his torso, as he switched the alarm off with haste.

"I guess we did." He replied, his heart beginning to slow to a normal pace.

"Good morning, Mr Jareau." JJ smiled, as she looked at him.

"Good morning to you too, Mrs Lamontagne," Will said with his slightly crooked smile, as she placed a quick kiss on his lips. "I can't remember the last time we were so alone."

"Oh, really?" She smirked. "Last night was the best we've had in some time, that I agree with."

"Emily needs to take Henry out for sleepovers more often." Will turned to face JJ with a grin.

"She should." JJ cocked an eyebrow seductively. "Henry loves sleepovers… And I really like _this_. Remind me to say yes to Cameron's mum every time they have a sleepover next time."

"Next time?" Will furrowed his brows.

"Yeah- don't you remember? He was there last month. We were so worried because of the whole seizure thing, but it was fine, wasn't it?" JJ frowned, moving her hand to his chest.

"Oh yeah, it was. I just forgot for a second there because our boy's growing up so fast." Will shook his head, placing his hand on hers, feeling her slender fingers twitch to his touch.

"For a minute there, I thought you were going to say that last night was so wild you forgot…" JJ gazed into his eyes.

"I should've said that." Will nodded with a smile, concealing his fears. "Oh, but what would that have gotten me?" He asked with intent.

"Well… I for one would _love_ to find out." Without hesitation, Will's lips crashed onto hers, his body leaning until he found hers- both without a shred of cloth on them. It was the gateway to another round of passionate lovemaking, but for Will, it kept his mind occupied for a while longer to figure out what was really wrong…

* * *

**Author's note**: Hi there! This is really just a draft, but I wanted to post this as soon as I could, sort of hoping I'll have some collateral to keep writing. I would love reviews, and I know this isn't much to go with, but I'd love to hear about how I'm doing so far. Do the characters sound as they would? Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this! I'll keep writing! Promise!


	2. Spontaneous

They didn't exactly plan a honeymoon, but with Will's peculiar condition, he wasn't entirely convinced that he and JJ should have gone on one in anyway.

"Will, is anything wrong?" JJ asked, as she slipped on his long, saggy shirt from the wedding, which covered her body up to the upper thighs.

"Not really," He replied, walking towards the kitchen with his bottoms on. He made sure she could see as little of his face as possible. "I was just thinking about the uh- honeymoon thing, Hun."

"We've talked about it." JJ smiled, wrapping her arms around him as he drew the saucepan from a cupboard. "We don't need one. We'll go somewhere during Christmas or something- take Henry with us."

"And what do you have in mind?"

"Somewhere warm and tropical. Somewhere we've never been." JJ replied with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Thailand?" Will asked.

"Definitely in Asia, but Thailand's not the safest place, you know- if we bring Henry." JJ squinted.

"China?"

"Maybe, but I hear the air there isn't great for kids."

"This is _really_ tough." Will smirked.

"Isn't 'tough'_ our thing_?" JJ took his free hand.

"I'll bet it is…" Will paused, an idea striking him. "Singapore."

"Hmm?" JJ cocked an eyebrow.

"Singapore." Will repeated, the idea quickly sinking into JJ's train of thought. She smiled brightly, and then placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Singapore it is."

"Here's the deal: how about you go lay back down in bed, and I bring us both breakfast, while you hunt for tickets?" Will mumbled, setting the pan down on the roaring stove.

"Deal." JJ patted him on the back as she left.

Will smiled, reaching for the fridge door. It was then where he realised he wasn't sure what he was doing. He stood there, his arm parallel to the ground; his fingers wrapped tightly around the fridge handle. He leaned forwards, his head slightly thumping. He didn't move, nor speak, for seconds. His mind was a blank. He had began sweating profusely; the noise from the spluttering stove sending intense tremors through his body. There was something _very_ wrong indeed.

* * *

He went without incident for the rest of the day. Immediately on the next, after Henry had returned, and JJ went back to work, he had discreetly skipped the morning shift. He knew he wasn't supposed to because of the _regular_ parenthood shift pact he had with JJ, but his behaviour became so erratic he couldn't put it off any longer. He knew a psychiatrist named Doctor Hensley, whose office was at the corner block of the precinct, and ironically, located above a bustling gun store. He went without earlier appointment: after all, he was _still_ rather unconvinced that it was some chronic ailment.

"I'm here to see Doctor Hensley." The waiting area was rather desolated; the pastel pink wall paint sticking out like a sore thumb on a street like tenth. Will spoke, ambling nervously towards the brightly painted counter: a direct contrast to every other piece of sordid décor in the office.

"Do you have an appointment?" The singular nurse asked.

"No," he merely replied, and then drew his ID from his wallet: next to his favourite photo of JJ and Henry. "Spontaneous."

* * *

"So how's married life, Mrs Lamontagne?" Emily asked as she took a seat on the corner of JJ's table. She sipped on her tea.

"_Same_ old, same old, you know. But that night was amazing. Thank you guys for that." JJ smiled.

"_And_?" Emily smirked.

"And what?" JJ replied, feigning ignorance.

"How was _that_ night?"

"Best ever." JJ whispered, much to Emily's amusement. "I'm still waiting for a wedding invitation from you, you know. I'd fly halfway across the world for it." JJ mentioned casually.

"Uhm, you might want to refrain from saying that." Emily set her drink down.

"Why?" JJ asked with concern.

"Clyde's been calling me. He's offering me a job in London to run the Interpol office."

"You _hate_ Interpol." JJ shook her head.

"I hate working for Interpol, dear." Emily rebutted. "I wouldn't mind running it."

"Oh God, you've already gotten a head start on talking like Easter." They laughed. "Is it official? Done deal?" JJ cringed.

"Not yet." Emily replied, picking up her tea.

"Does anyone else know yet?" JJ asked, looking around furtively.

"Well, I had to tell mister boss-man, so Hotch knows. I think Morgan's got the idea. If Morgan knows, naturally, Rossi would too. Garcia will probably find out soon, provided I can get her to lunch."

"That's not hard. Just lure her with caffeine... How about Reid?" JJ asked, looking away from his desk. He was flipping through a bucolic-looking book, as usual.

"I don't know how to tell him." Emily sighed.

"You _need_ to talk to him. I know how you feel about the whole thing, but you have to at least _try_ to tell him. He's like my little brother, and after the Doyle thing, if there's one thing I know, is that he loves you, and you should come clean with him."

"Jesus," Emily licked her lips. "That's why it's so hard."

"We don't seem to live for easy." JJ laughed.

"We don't, but whatever it is, I hope it ends with a _bang_, huh?"

"You know, I'll really miss you." JJ gave her a small tap on the back. "But that doesn't mean I've conceded. I'll still convince you to stay, mark my words."

"What's going on here?" Garcia crept up to the duo.

"Just the lady I wanted to talk to," Emily smiled. "How about lunch today? Maybe, all three of us, together?"

"Oh, no-can-do, my pretties. We've caught another one." Garcia cringed.

"Oh come on," JJ sighed, exhaling audibly. "Please tell me it's local."

"Great for you, it is." Garcia smiled quirkily. "Not-so-great for those of us who take the subways alone." Garcia looked at Emily.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I've got a loaded Glock." Emily smiled.

"Don't forget the genius who _practically_ escorts you home." JJ added.

"Yeah, what's with that, Em?" Garcia cocked an eyebrow. "Are you and Reid…?"

"No, why would we be?" Emily replied, deadpan.

"Answering my question with yet another sentence which '_happens_' to end with another question mark, huh? Cool." Garcia smirked. Emily shook her head in disbelief. "All right- round table in five. I'll get Chocolate Thunder." Garcia said once more, before bobbing down the hallway for Morgan.

* * *

"Just last week, there have been two incidents where prostitutes have been murdered and dumped on various alleyways on 14th Street, a couple of blocks from Colonial Liberty. The victims had all been asphyxiated. The COD was determined to be carbon monoxide poisoning. The dumpsites were discovered on Monday, and Saturday respectively. Earlier this morning, another victim was found under similar circumstances, but this time, it is apparent that our Unsub had poured sulphuric acid down her trachea. Garcia?" Hotch gestured to Garcia as he took a seat.

Looking away at the macabre photos plastered on the screen, she clicked her bedazzled remote quickly.

"It's interesting. These victims were all of relatively small build. The average between these three is about five foot three." JJ commented, looking through her fresh manila file.

"But why carbon monoxide? This Unsub could've used anything else. He could've used far more toxic substances, right? Halogens?" Rossi wondered.

"This MO is extremely contradictory as well. The positions of these victims seemed poised. Look at the nails," Emily frowned. "All polished, and they have a relatively fresh layer of make-up on- so why these particular desolate dumpsites? And if they were petite, it wouldn't require much build to take them out. Why take such time to suffocate them with carbon monoxide?"

"There might be a slight significance there, actually. Humans: we are built to be oxygen receptors. Our lungs, our alveoli, they send signals to our brain when we don't get enough oxygen. For example, when we run, we need more oxygen, so we breathe faster and deeper, but carbon monoxide- well, we don't exactly have an anatomical response for that. We don't know when we have '_too much_' per se. Carbon monoxide kills because it binds about two hundred times better to haemoglobin than oxygen to form an incredibly rigid molecule known as Carboxyhaemoglobin. You can't get rid of until the erythrocyte recycles in the bone marrow. That takes months." Reid spoke quickly, like he usually did.

"So this Unsub's literally drowning them," JJ spoke again. "In a constituent of _air_."

"It could symbolise that the Unsub sees the victims' occupations as toxic." Rossi suggested.

"They're all low-risk victims too, which gives the Unsub time to carry out this ritual." Emily added.

"How long would poisoning take to kill?" Rossi asked, his question blatantly directed at Reid.

"It depends on the concentration." He paused. "But say this Unsub has a gas chamber, or an enclosed area, a three thousand ppm measure can kill in thirty minutes."

"And what would that take?" Rossi asked again.

"Well- the exhaust from a fireplace would be more than sufficient." Reid replied as-a-matter-of-factly, which caused a deft silence in the room. It was _too easy_.

* * *

**Author's note**: Hi there again! This might just end up the fastest fic I've ever written, and I hope I'll be able to sustain that streak. Thank you for the follows and reviews! I have also put up a trailer for this fic. The next chapter might just be a bit more about the case, but I try to make everything relevant anyway. Thanks for reading!


	3. I Insist

JJ and Emily exited the armoured vehicle, and walked down the narrow concrete pavement to a secluded area on 14th. In general, the place had never been populous, but the increased patrol from the D.C. Metro had driven more commuters away. The district had never been renowned for it's safety. The two made it to a small alley behind a diner, taped off by the regular yellow neon crime scene tape.

"So, how's Will about the whole marriage thing? He must be pretty happy, huh?"

"I think he is. I couldn't really tell, since we were rather _occupied_ yesterday." JJ grinned; giving Emily a look she could not resist laughing at.

"Oh, I see." Emily replied. "But he did ask me one thing yesterday."

"What did he ask?" JJ questioned casually.

"He asked if it was normal for a thirty-five year old guy to experience memory loss. Well, to be frank, he might have been asking Reid, but he was too busy running around with Henry to answer." Emily shrugged, surveying the area.

"He did?" JJ said, surprised. "Never mentioned it to me though."

"I'm sure it's just the post-wedding jitters." Emily replied nonchalantly. JJ quickly dismissed it. "This place is goddamn filthy." Emily added, squatting down to examine the body. The corpse had belonged to a woman coincidentally with the name Jennifer as well. She had been position in a way that her bountiful, now soulless emerald eyes were tilted to the sky, wide open. She bore an unconventional burgundy dress: as if from the seventies, and a pair of matching fuchsia shoes. The dress sagged from her poise, but if she had been upright, it would have had been long enough to drape over her knees to her calves.

"This isn't what a usual _woman-of-the-night_ would wear to work, is it?" JJ asked, snapping the sky blue rubber gloves onto her fingers. It was against protocol, but she had kept her wedding ring on, as she would for the next few weeks.

"No, it isn't. I don't think this is exactly 'in-season' as well, is it?" Emily asked, as JJ shook her head firmly. "What is she even staring at?" Emily cringed, taking a hasty seat next to the body. She looked upwards, in the direction the body did as well. JJ turned, trying to look past the concrete mess that was the backdoor of a decrepit diner to the first conspicuous thing in the horizon.

"It's a church, I think." Emily squinted. She got up, and dialled for the one person she knew would know what it was. "Hey Reid, the victim at your site… What is she looking at _exactly_? … Yeah, I think this Unsub's sending some kind of a religious message." Emily hung up.

"That's Pope Saint John Paul The Second's national shrine." Emily sighed, turning to look at JJ.

* * *

Aromas wafted through the entire building, narrowing at one rare sight: as JJ shut the door behind her, Will turned around, boasting JJ's usual figure-hugging plaid apron.

"You did _not_ just cook dinner." JJ smiled, stripping herself of her coat, which she tossed haphazardly onto the couch.

"I did, sweetheart. New Orleans chicken." He smirked.

"Wow. And how was work?" JJ asked, taking a seat on the bar counter as Will went back to work, furiously stirring the wok with a spatula.

"Work was fine, but O' Clancy broke his foot, so I'll have to take his shift tomorrow morning." He said, biting his lip. Only the first part was really true.

"Ouch. I hope he feels better soon. And in any case, I could drop Henry off before work so you don't have to-"

"Mummy!" Henry exclaimed, jumping boisterously onto JJ's lap.

"You know, I was just about to ask Daddy where you were." She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I was watching tee-wee. Sponge-Bob is on!" Henry laughed, so contagiously that both JJ and Will couldn't help but grin as well. "I'm hungree! Daddy, can we _pwease_ eat now?"

"In a bit, little man." Will replied, trying to take his mind off of the visit to Doctor Hensley's. "Go watch some more TV, and we'll eat in about ten minutes, buddy." Henry needed no further permission. Hopping off the stool as quickly as he got on, he dashed back into the living room.

"Hey, honey?" JJ folded her arms on the top of the cool, hard marble. Will replied with a hymn. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Jennifer," he turned around, feigning a smile. She couldn't differentiate it from a genuine one. Then again, she didn't try to, because she trusted him too much. "I am. I'm just happy from the fact that you're Mrs Lamontagne now. There's nothin' wrong. Promise." He leaned over the bar, and placed a quick, tender kiss on her lips, before withdrawing to his earlier task. "Why don't you go take a shower, and we'll have dinner when you're out?" JJ nodded, and left, her silhouette swaying into the darkness that shrouded the rest of the house. Will watched in remorse as she left, only thinking about Henley's prognosis…

* * *

His feet tapped incessantly as he fumbled in his seat. It was barely twelve in the afternoon: too late for Henley to have just gotten to work, and too early for lunch break, yet, according to the nurse behind the counter, Henley hadn't been in the office since eleven. Will was in no condition to ask why. He didn't care, since his mind was too preoccupied with the incessant beeping from the nurse's phone. Apparently, her name was Melinda, according to the badge plastered across her left breast pocket. The badge was the only thing in the tapering office that seemed less than a year old, which was strange for Henley's usual pedigree. Will's hands began to shake, involuntarily, of course. Clasping them together, he managed to tone down the violence of the trembling. He could hear the silence in the room, so incessantly loud that it was almost unbearable. His chest felt tighter than even when a bomb was nailed onto it. His breaths were shallow, and his feet would not stop their gambolling. Sweat had already begun crawling down in streaks on his face, and the space between his hands had felt like a sauna; the pressure inside him building up so greatly like raging water behind a cracking dam.

"Detective," a benign voice croaked, resonating from behind Will. "What a surprise to see you here in my office."

"Great- great to see you too, Susan." Will finally stood up. His legs felt like jelly, similar to his limp body.

* * *

"How long has it been, Susan?" Will asked, taking a firm seat in her deathly taciturn office.

"Since I last saw you?" She chortled, pulling out a pristine copy of The Washington Post. She slid it over the spotless mahogany table to Will. The article plastered on the front page was the story about the explosion at Colonial Liberty. "I saw you on Sunday's paper. It seems like you were in _quite_ a fiasco last week." She said.

"I- I was." Will cleared his throat.

"I'm guessing… You're here about _that_ then?"

Will set the paper back down on the table, his right arm still throbbing from that case. It was a minor fracture, merely vis-à-vis from the Unsubs, but it had begun to hurt whenever his blood pressure deviated from its norm. He barely looked her in the eyes. Henley was a woman small in built; about two years Will's junior. She had impressive credentials: she was a graduate from Yale, amongst _many_ other things, but most of all, Will had known her since his own adolescent days, although she moved away from New Orleans since he had turned fourteen for reasons unbeknownst to him. He found her after a case two years ago. She had become a freelance consultant for D.C. Metro.

"Yeah, _look_- I've been having these sporadic flashes where I just go blank, and I was wondering if that's normal or anythin'." Will mumbled, otherwise incoherently if she hadn't been an Orleans native herself.

"_Blank_?" She asked, furiously scribbling down notes onto a Moleskin notebook.

"I'm not your patient, Susan." Will looked at her with his cool grey eyes- the swashing of the pen against the paper generating loud friction, which caused him to tense again.

"I'm sorry," she replied, removing her glasses. "Is this annoying you?"

"You'd be damn sure it is." He gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning ivory white as his fists became boluses. She stopped, propping the pen onto the smooth table. He took a deep breath, and sat back upright. He shut his eyes. He grimaced from the physical pain from his right arm, the injury slightly aggravated from the tension, and his lack of emotional conviction.

"I'm sorry," Will sighed, exhaling audibly. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You need to get help, Will. If not me, then someone else, and by the looks of you right now, the sooner the better. And I _insist_ on it." Henley folded her arms around her chest.

"You think it's PTSD or somethin'?" He asked, gripping his arm.

"Could be, but I'm not _your_ doctor now, am I?" She looked at him coldly, and then chuckled, breaking character.

"Sign me up." Will replied, his breaths intensifying. He struggled to smile.

"I'll get you some ice. Melinda will bring you the forms." Susan stood up from her tanned faux leather armchair.

"What'll you do to me?" Will struggled to fathom his discombobulated thoughts.

"I know _exactly_ what I can help you with. I'll fix you up, but I need time. It isn't going to happen in two days. We can try hypnosis, if you'd like." Susan stopped beside Will, awaiting answer.

"Access granted- just do _your thing_." Will yelped, the words barely escaping his lips.

"By the way, does your girlfriend know about this? What's her name again- Jenny?"

"_Jennifer_." He replied, easing his body into the turgid armchair. "Nuh, _she doesn't have a clue_."

* * *

**Author's note**: I am trying to write this as fast as I can, but I don't want to compromise any factual information, or details, so please be patient with me. I still hope that this fic is still interesting for you guys. I can't wait to delve into the real action.


	4. Talk To Me

"What do you remember most about your relationship with Jennifer?" Henley asked, as Will lay with his eyes shut on one of her elongated faux leather recliners.

"I remember the day I was _sure_ I wanted to marry her." He mumbled, without further thought.

"I'd like you to talk about that." Henley re-arranged her thick-rimmed glasses, letting them rest lower on her pronounced retroussé.

"It was sometime in July. Really hot out." He shifted slightly, feeling the calmest he had been in days. "It was a weekend or something, but I forgot to turn the alarm off, so we woke up at seven. She was pregnant with Henry, so I told her not to get up, and I went ahead to make breakfast."

"Great. What did you make?"

"Eggs. Not runny, because a friend told me it might have given Jennifer and little Henry salmonella."

"A doctor?"

"In a way." Will smirked. "I brought her apple juice too. Bought them in small cartons, because Reid said they'd have to be pasteurised."

"Why were you so sure about Jennifer?"

"I was pretty unconfident about everythin'. I ain't ever been with a girl that seriously too, and Jennifer and I had barely dated for much before she found out we had Henry. I was sure she'd dump me, though I said I'd move over to D.C. for her. Everythin' was new to me, and bloody scary. You know me, I don't travel, and I'd barely been out of Orleans. So there I was: new city, new house, new partner, no job, and I was gonna' be a father." Will mumbled, his palms folded on top of his torso. "So there I was, just standin' there, making breakfast for her, and all of a sudden, she's behind me, and we talk. Changed my life _forever_, you know."

* * *

_JJ stood there, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, her belly protruding outwards. She just watched as he shuffled from place to place, in helter-skelter, just to make her breakfast. He was quite a clumsy guy despite his unshaven, wild look. Admittedly, she had never thought he'd have stuck around for unborn Henry, but yet, there he was, dropping everything at home to be with her. She was touched, but still unclear if it would have lasted. All the pregnancy books she had read were written by women for other women. Barely anybody had ever written some psychoanalytic project on how men reacted to pregnancies. Will had never been a father prior to that, which JJ was clear on, and (albeit) relieved about. At the same time, she was anxious. How was one to prepare for fatherhood without being a father before? What if the burden was too great, and what if he'd run away the second she needed him? What if he'd run away the second the baby was born? She had no clue, but she was sure Will was under duress too._

_"Will?" She spoke, moving behind him with caution, trying her best not to startle him._

_"Shit- you scared me for a second." He smiled, boasting his usual scruff as he turned around to greet her. "Sorry for the language. Gotta' keep that in check for my little man over there, huh?" JJ nodded, touched by his small gesture. It was obvious that he was still tinkering with the concept of fatherhood. _

_"I need to talk to you." She feigned a smile. He turned the stove off immediately, guiding her to the couch. _

_"What about?" He asked with much concern as they sat down. As much as he tried, he could not keep his fears at bay. He was terrified that that would've been the moment he'd be pushed away by JJ. "Did I do somethin' wrong? Now I know I shouldn't swear as much as I usually do, but old habits die real hard, and I'm really tryin', Jennifer. And if its cause' I snore, I hear breathin' exercises really work, and I- please talk to me, Jennifer." _

_She laughed, giving him a small kiss on the lips. JJ had secretly loved how insecure Will was, because it just went to show that he wasn't perfect, and it reminded her that she didn't need to be either. "No, Will. I wasn't going to say that, but since you brought it up, we could really use a swear jar." He heaved a sigh of relief, gripping on to her soft palms. JJ was putting on weight, but she was still so beautiful to him. She was perfectly imperfect to him._

_"What is it? Does it have to do with me?" He murmured. _

_"Of course it does," JJ smiled, squeezing his fingers gently. "Because- you're in my life now, Will, and I just want you to know that I'm not going anywhere. I've never expected you to stay, but you chose to, and here you are." She paused, her eyes glimmering with tears. She would've been less emotional, but she wasn't at fault. The hormones liked to rave her body in the early mornings. "And I love you for that. Thank you for putting up with this, and all of my whims and hormones and- I just love you. I really, really love you." _

_"Jennifer, I love you too, and I'm so glad you haven't chased me out of the house with a broomstick or somethin'. You've put up with my prying when you come back from work, and o'course my snorin'. And I want you to know that I ain't goin' nowhere either. This is where you are, and this is where our baby is, and so this is where I will always be, so long you let me. And-" Will maundered on, and he would've gone on longer, if JJ hadn't stopped him with a swift kiss. _

_"Shut up and fucking take me to the bedroom." She whispered against his lips, tears still streaming down her contoured cheeks. The morning pallor from the windows had complimented her so well, and Will could never have resisted her anyway. _

_"Swear jar." He mumbled, as he kissed her back. Her fingers crept up his sculpted jawline, and stayed there, clinging onto the passionate prance of the lips. _

_"Later." She panted with a crooked smile. "We always have later."_

* * *

"We didn't have that breakfast until about eleven o'clock. And for the rest of the day, we just lay in bed, talkin' about how we felt about each other." Will's muscles sank into the recliner. He spoke with the brightest smile, his temporary happiness radiating like heat from his being.

"How does that make you feel?" Henley asked, unfolding her legs.

"_Happy_. I said I never been with a girl that long, but Jennifer wasn't a girl. She was a lady. She always complained about her weight and stuff, and she hated how she was always moody in the morns', but she was perfect like that, you know. "

"Do you feel more relaxed now, Will?" Henley asked, reaching for her stopwatch, which sat quietly in her right breast pocket. It was a heavy pendulum, which rattled when it moved.

"Yeah." He took a deep breath.

"Good." Henley grinned. She was glad, above all else. "Let's begin the _treatment_."

* * *

"Can we determine the gender of this Unsub?" JJ asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"We don't have many markers to really work with." Emily sighed. "Let's start with victimology."

"So far, we have females in the twenties range of small builds. According to the various M.E.s, they were all natural blondes. The bodies were all dumped in remote alleys during the night, with no eyewitnesses, and they were all dressed in vintage dresses from… the nineties. So far, we've got the first vic in sort of a lime green, the second was in a blueish- heck, it's purple, and our latest vic was dressed in a dark red dress." Morgan mumbled, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"The victims were also poised to look as if they were looking at the Pope's shrine. This Unsub definitely isn't a hedonistic thrill killer, but a mission-orientated killer instead." Rossi added, leaning into his flimsy chair.

"The mission being…" Hotch paused. "Well, rigour kicks in after death, so by keeping the victims' eyes open, they could act as a gateway: unable to close until external stimuli is applied. If you position the victims in that way, in front of a religious symbol, you'd be implying some sort of social bias or wrongdoing was affecting these victims, or the Unsub. It could be a social message: if you live outside the norms of God's will, you die."

"Doctor Reid, now's a good time for fun facts." Emily smirked.

"Uh- so, this Unsub is likely to be an organised killer: no crucial identification markers post-mortem, no witnesses. Organised killers usually have an above-average IQ, and are usually diurnal. Chances are, our Unsub has a stable paternal relationship, and follows the media, especially on their own victims to maintain control, and an ego-boost for some." Reid spoke garrulously.

"So from that, we should be able to deduce that this Unsub is likely to be male, right?" Morgan asked, his speech slurred by the food in his mouth.

"More than likely, the probability of it is quite intriguing, actually-" Reid's eyes lit up, and then he stopped as Hotch furrowed his eyebrows.

"All right, now we're _actually_ getting somewhere." Rossi said with a smirk.

"This unsub is likely to be white as well, from his victimology." JJ nodded, snacking on her share of Cheetos. She didn't have much of an appetite of late anyway.

"Kid- how's the geographical profile?" Morgan said with a small laugh, crumpling the food wrapper into a tight ball. "The _summarised_ version, please."

"Well, so we know that the three victims so far have been positioned strategically to face the Pope's shrine. I've estimated by the height of the shrine and all the nearby buildings, that there are actually quite an abundance of dumpsites the Unsub could choose from: theoretically speaking. I've deduced everything, and the possible sites are all marked with yellow, as such." Reid promptly stood up, pinning a detailed map onto the corkboard. The map resembled a child's colouring book: colours vivacious and pins scattered everywhere. The average Joe could never have conjectured what it really was, and neither could half the team. "The three victims' dumpsites are marked with the blue, and the legend for everything else that is crucial is right here." Reid pulled out another piece of paper, and snapped it onto the board. Every other query it was supposed to initially clear up only became more profound.

"The victims were taken probably within a window of three days before their deaths, which means we still have two days tops, assuming the Unsub already has his next victim." Rossi mumbled.

"Summarised version, of course." Morgan shook his head as Reid spoke, and with dead accuracy, dunked the wrapper into the trashcan.  
"More like- _accurate_." Morgan replied impudently.

* * *

**Author's note**: The first part of this chapter is just a clarification to what Will thought of in the first chapter, which I hope you like. The later part of this chapter, I know, is a bit more mundane, but in any case, I think it wouldn't be easy to identify this Unsub with the ambiguity, so I'm trying to get the team to reflect this. I hope you liked this. I'm working on the next chapter right now.


	5. Will?

JJ approached her front porch, the low light illuminating just the doorsteps in the midst of the cool night. Morgan waited in the GMC patiently, the brightness from the screen of his phone turning his smooth head a shade of cobalt blue. _Must be another one of his girl 'friends'_, JJ thought with a smirk as she made it to the door. She was only home to grab a change of clothes and a quick shower. The case was based in D.C., of course, but the profilers worked as if it were on the other side of the country. It was per her regular case schedule, although the particular case was not one to be trifled with. The neighbourhood was deathly quiet, which was peculiar for a Wednesday night. The best crime shows were on at nine, and her neighbours usually had the volume cranked up.

She opened the door swiftly, and made her way inside, avoiding the shoes strewn around the floor as she did. Henry lay on the sofa, motionless like a log, and Will was nowhere in sight. "Will?" She called softly. She repeated herself, at a louder volume to no avail.

"Damn it." She mumbled, picking Henry up after dumping her bags on the counter. He was getting heavier, and less manageable, she thought. With caution, she brought him upstairs into his room, and tucked him into his bed. She loomed over Henry for a while, running her hands through her own shiny hair. Her other hand akimbo to her waist, she let out an audible sigh. She didn't have much time for this.

"Mummy?" A small voice squeaked as she looked away in search of Will. She glanced at Henry, and then knelt down to greet him.

"Hey buddy, do you know where Daddy went?" She smiled.

"Daddy was tired, so he went to sleep. I wanted to come upstairs, but I was tired too. _Sorry mummy_." Henry mumbled.

"That's all right, sweetie. Go to sleep, okay? You have school tomorrow. I'll give you a night-night story tomorrow, buddy." JJ replied, kissing Henry gently on the forehead.

She shut the door, and made her way across the narrow hallway to her room. Well, not _her_ room per se. At a glance through an opening in the door, the bed was empty, and practically unscathed since she made the sheets in the morning. If Will were asleep, he _clearly_ wasn't sleeping there. She pushed the door wide open; her other hand poised firmly on her holstered Glock. She wasn't taking any chances- especially not since Izzy almost got a hold of Henry and killed her husband. With one swift step, she moved into the room, her eyes wide open. There he was, in a corner, furiously scribbling onto some Moleskin notebook that they had in the drawer for ages. He barely noticed JJ's presence- too engrossed in his thoughts to acknowledge anything else. At least he still had his thoughts.

"Will." She managed to croak, her hand moving from her gun to the front pocket of her denim jean. He turned around in frenzy. Being as maladroit as ever, he knocked the table clock over, and at that moment, he realised exactly what time it was.

"Crap, I gotta go tuck Henry in, babe." Will shook his head, stumbling out of the chair.

"I tucked him in. Hey, is your arm still-" JJ gestured upon Will's unconscious stiffening of arm.

"Uh no. It's nothing, honey." He replied, sitting back down. He gritted his teeth in agony as his left arm throbbed in pain. "How's the uh- case goin'?"

"Well- it isn't a walk in the park. Definitely isn't easy, but you know, we always work through the hard stuff." JJ replied, folding her arms. Resting her weight on her shoulder, she leaned against the doorframe. There was silence. "You haven't written in a diary for a long time, Will."

"I haven't." He interrupted, not quite sure if he ever did in the first place.

"Not since we met again in Miami." JJ shook her head.

"Really?" He asked, rubbing his chin. His soft bristles of facial hair released a scratching sound which he quickly found annoying. The sound was only amplified by the silence in the room.

"Yeah. Picking it up again?" JJ shot him a smile. She wasn't sure what was going on with him, but she didn't like it at all.

"I guess." He shrugged. "I thought it- might be a good idea. I wanna remember the little things, you know?"

"Yeah, and maybe you should start by remembering to tuck Henry in on a Wednesday night." JJ smirked.

"I should, I should. I'm sorry." He got up, and ambled towards JJ. Will gave her a kiss on the cheek, and brushed past her, and out the door. "You leaving soon?"

"Yeah, I called you, but you didn't pick up, so I sent you a text." JJ moved her palms into her fingers, and paused for a while. She stared blankly at the drawer where Will had shoved the book in.

"Sorry, I wasn't really payin' attention to my phone." His voice echoed slightly.

"We're taking shifts at the office. Spence's sending Emily and Garcia home. Morgan's waiting for me outside, and I don't want to keep him waiting, so I'll uh- take a shower at the office or something." JJ took a deep breath, and then grabbed some clothes from her side of the closet. Exiting the room, they made their way down the stairs, and JJ shoved the pieces of fabric into her duffle bag. Will stood at the kitchen bar counter, firmly gripping his glass of water. It was strange to JJ, since he rarely _ever_ drank water. Being a detective never meant taking the _healthy road_, as he'd liked to call it. One foot out the door, she stopped her tracks abruptly.

"Was work all right? Nothing _weird_?" She asked with concern.

"Yeah sure. Nothin' out of the ordinary." Will replied with a firm nod. She smiled back in lieu of a reply. She bent down to put the shoes in order, and without further comment, she left, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

"Didn't take a shower?" Morgan smirked, lowering his phone. Even a full day at the office couldn't deter his schmuck comments.

"Nope." JJ said. "Just drive, would you?"

"Someone fell off the wagon tonight, huh?" Morgan sneered.

"Yeah- but that someone isn't me." JJ looked out the window, into the pitch-dark ominous night, only to see the mere silhouette of her home. Strangely, married life seemed more complicated than it was _promised_ to be.

* * *

"Hey, Susan, it's me." Will mumbled, taking the last swig of his water. "I got started on that diary thing you recommended… Have you any idea what it is that's messin' me up yet? I mean- I reckon I should see a doctor about all of this, you know? Not a doctor like you, but a real _medical_ doctor… See if there's something wrong with my head or somethin'… Look, Susan, not that I don't trust you or anythin', but this is getting out of control. I can't let this affect my work, or worse- at home… Yes, I know it takes time… Jesus, Susan! Listen to me! I can't keep this up, okay? What if this gets worse, and I lose control or something? For God's sake, it's wrecking my body, and it's only been like what- five days? I can't sleep, Susan, and I feel like I can't breathe! Is that normal for you? Do you think that's normal? Because I sure as hell don't think it's normal… Stop telling me that!" And then it became deftly quiet through all halls of the Jareau-Lamontagne residence. "I'll stop by tomorrow, and if by then, you still can't understand what's wrong with me, then I'll go to the ER…. Yeah. Tomorrow, at say- nine? No, I've got a week off. Mandatory week off… And Susan? You think you could wait for me outside the building? Yeah, I'm just a little afraid I'll forget why I was there. Come on, Susan, I'm not over-reacting. With my condition, you know it's valid, Susan… All right, we'll talk tomorrow… Bye." He set his phone down to his right, and then stared into space- something he had begun doing. Will had suspected PTSD, and it was very likely so. Pulling a Google tab up on his phone, he typed in those four letters, and clocked on the very first result the search engine provided. He scrolled down to 'symptoms'.

"_Feeling upset by things that remind you of what happened_," Will mumbled to himself. "It got me married, so- _no_… _Nightmares_? _No_… _Emotionally distant_? _Not that_…" The only symptoms he really had, was the irritability factor, and not being able to focus. To Will, it was as if he had some spontaneous late-onset ADHD, though that didn't quite seem to exist either. He let out a deep sigh, plumping his head onto the cold marble bar top. He was helpless, and lost, and above all, he couldn't tell JJ. He simply couldn't let her worry, and not to mention, he didn't want to scare her off within the first week of their marriage.

As the clock struck ten o'clock, the roaring sound of gunshots flooded into the home. The neighbours were tuning in to their weekly routine of crime serials again. This time though, it left Will in a frenzy.

* * *

"Why are you guys still here?" JJ asked, ambling into the bullpen.

"Uh, I was just about to take Emily and Garcia home, but Hotch said there was something important, so we stayed." Reid replied with a half-smile.

"Reid, you don't say that you're taking someone home like that, especially me and Garcia. You make it sound like you're a nymphomaniac." Emily rolled her eyes, swirling in her pivot chair. Reid pursed his lips together comically, taking a firm seat on the clearing of Emily's desk.

"So, where's Hotch?" Morgan asked, sitting similarly on JJ's desk, his arm now around Garcia's shoulder.

"Hotch's in there with Strauss." Emily replied, peering at Hotch's office. His folding shades were shut- a rare sight for his office.

"With Strauss?" Morgan frowned. "That isn't _ever_ a good sign."

"His shades are shut too. Can't see them in there." Garcia added, taking a sip of coffee from her bright magnolia mug.

"Ugh, the last time those things were shut, Strauss was here to claim me for the- uh, _DOJ_." JJ folded her arms, and leaned backwards into her chair- the momentum of it giving her lean body a fast bop.

"That other time they were shut, Strauss was out for Hotch's head." Garcia added, her expression one of worry and disgust.

"Technically, she wanted Hotch's job to keep her own head," Emily corrected. "But we could also put it that way." She smirked.

"The very last time those shades were shut, Hotch was talking to Clyde Easter about Emily's funeral." Reid murmured solemnly, barely loud enough for anyone but Emily to hear. Her smile faded quickly.

"Where's Rossi, by the way?" Morgan asked, fumbling with his ID card.

"He was in there a while ago. Probably uh- went back into his office or something." Emily dismissed her other thoughts. _Compartmentalise, _she reminded herself.

They all turned to face him as he traipsed down the empty hall towards the rest of the team. Rossi's face showed little emotion, as if he was almost indifferent to any of them. Somehow, for the first time since he spoke about Carolyn's ALS, he looked pale.

"What's wrong? You all right there, Rossi?" Morgan furrowed his eyebrows, his feet now an inch away from the ground, his rear still firm on JJ's desk. Morgan knew something was wrong- well, _everyone_ did. He didn't quite like surprises.

"We have a new vic." Rossi sighed, his two hands in their respective pockets. It was always Rossi's tell for when he was anxious.

"Our Unsub's escalating?" JJ gasped.

"This isn't right. We were supposed to have at least one more day." Emily shook her head in denial.

"If he's sticking to his MO, someone so methodical wouldn't just deviate like this. He needs time for his ritual. Who's our vic? There's _got_ to be some mistake." Reid cringed in denial.

"Our Unsub left us quite a message this round." Rossi replied, pulling up a picture on his dimmed phone screen. Even then, it was still visible. Even then, it made Garcia gag.

There was silence again.

* * *

**Author's note**: Hello everyone! I've been on vacation for the past month or so, and I'm in the midst of juggling my Instagram account, an internship, and a summer course at Brown, so needless to say, I'm in a bit of a situation. Regardless, I have written the next chapter already, and I'm trying to make sure it's as good as can be before I show it to you guys. Thank you for the positive feedback, and all the follows! See you soon!


	6. Actualities

"Trouble in paradise?" Emily asked. She spoke so quietly, making sure only JJ could hear her question as she fidgeted in the rear portion of the regular jet-black SUV. No one else had arrived yet.

"You were right, you know. Will hasn't exactly been _himself, _lately." JJ replied after a long pause.

"Do you know why?" Emily cringed. She loved being right, especially since she worked so closely with a genius know-it-all, but in this case, she despised it.

"No idea, whatsoever." JJ shrugged, pinching her nose bridge. She shut her eyes.

"Oh- I'm sorry." Emily struggled hard for a reply. "It wouldn't be… Never mind."

"Be what?" JJ glanced at Emily, bolting her seatbelt down.

"Nothing." Emily choked.

"Okay," JJ knew what Emily was talking about. _Will wouldn't do that_. They just got married. There was no way he had been cheating on her. "Anyway- have you told Spence about the Interpol thing yet?"

"Jesus, JJ, I _can't_ do it." Emily sighed. "Every single time I muster up just enough confidence that _maybe_ he's let the whole Doyle fiasco go, something- somehow reminds him, and I can just feel the disappointment radiating from his 187 IQ brain."

"You need to tell him sooner or later, Emily, lest he finds out when he walks into the bullpen one morning to find that your desk's empty." JJ replied.

Emily shrugged with exasperation. "That seems easier."

"Not for him though." JJ retorted, nudging Emily on the elbow as Reid took the passenger seat.

"You guys are loud," Reid chortled. "I could hear you guys from outside."

"You- _you know_?" Emily's face turned the colour of soot. "I didn't mean for you to find out this way, Reid- I-"

"Find out what?" He grimaced, turning to glimpse at Emily.

"I- this isn't a good time, or place, Reid." Emily replied, licking her chapped lips. She realised that she hadn't gotten shuteye for almost twenty-four hours, and her body was definitely acting on the lethargy. She wasn't so afraid of that so much though.

He turned back around, without further sound. He didn't want to ask. All of the sudden, he had lost the urge to know.

"Uh, Spence, where's Morgan, or- Rossi?" JJ broke the tension. For a moment in time, Reid almost forgot JJ was in the vehicle too.

"Rossi's talking to Strauss." He merely replied.

"Again?" Emily sneered.

"Yeah- _again_." Reid replied. His tone was stern, and his pitch had seemed to have lacked warmth. It was hostile, and Emily knew it. She understood why as well.

"Any word on who our vic is?" JJ continued.

"Uh, Ruth Frasier." Reid replied statically.

"Frasier? That name sounds familiar." JJ squinted.

"She wouldn't happen to be Walter Frasier's daughter, would she?" Emily mumbled after some thought. She couldn't help but to pair the name up to the old, wrinkled, smug face her mother used to invite over so often. She despised the family, the entirety of it. Well, perhaps because she despised politics more.

"And you wouldn't just _happen_ to know him, would you?" JJ cringed.

"No," Emily replied. "But I know his son… Uh, Frank? No, Felix." JJ shot Emily a bemused expression. She wanted an explanation. "My mother used to set me up on those stupid blind dates, right? Anyway, Walter Frasier is the Solicitor General of Defence, which is probably why he has Strauss 'expediting' the process. _Stupid politics_."

"It doesn't make much sense… I doubt Frasier's daughter would happen to be a prostitute. This doesn't fit the Unsub's MO at all."

"He's devolving. Quickly as well, by the looks of it."

"Let's just hope he stuck to the same manifesto, and that he poised the body. Wouldn't want there to be some copycat killer out there."

* * *

Strauss was sat quietly at the back of the other SUV with Morgan and Rossi. She was say- _well acquainted_ with them both, in polar ways, nonetheless.

"If it makes any difference, I didn't want to do Frasier any favours," Strauss broke the silence. "I owe him one because of an old case."

"You don't have to explain it to any of us, ma'am." Morgan replied, steadily trailing behind the vehicle helmed by Hotch. The roads were relatively empty at the hour. The only sounds in the car were now the hum of the air conditioner and the sloshing of the wheels against the tar roads.

Strauss wasn't quite aiming it at Morgan, but rather, the man sitting beside him: Rossi. Though both Strauss and Rossi had agreed that their relationship was strictly a _'friends-with-benefits_' one, and though they did uphold their ends for the most part, they were both aware that it hadn't always been like that. Truth be told, they had become quite attached to one another.

"Well, I just ought you should know, that's all." Strauss said, looking away from the shell of a seat that was Rossi's. He remained silent.

* * *

As the team finally made it to the new dumpsite, one thing was clear: the church was still in sight, which was somewhat of a relief. The body, protected from the sight drizzle of rain by a dark plastic sheet, was pulled off by a CSI as Strauss approached him, her badge stretched out with one hand. The team was greeted by another bucolic dress, a pale yellow this time.

"How long?" Morgan asked, putting a pair of luminous cyan gloves on.

"We were called in an hour ago, so she's been dead for about four hours from the liver temp measurements, so time of death was about eight."

"Rigor has begun to set in." Reid remarked, squatting down to move the victim's arm. He was careful not to step on the dress. The body looked pale, and had a wisteria tinge. The walls in the alleyway were plastered with various forms of explicit graffiti, the colours on some being more pronounced than the rest. The place was crammed, with CSIs and cops alike. The officers around were too occupied with keeping press behind the barricade to attend to the agents.

"Yes sir," the lanky CSI replied to Reid. "ID on her belonged to one '_Ruth Grace Frasier_'. " With care, the CSI bagged the ID, and offered it to Reid to examine.

"Is this your first case?" Reid asked casually, fiddling with the ID in his hands.

"Well, technically- yes." The CSI replied, as Reid nodded. "CSI Gregg, Mister SSA."

"Uh, it's Doctor Reid."

"Not my kind of Doctor, I reckon?"

"No. Ph.D. kind of Doctor."

"I would shake your hand, but-" Gregg raised his gloved hands.

"I would do the same, but I'm not very fond of handshakes myself." Reid murmured, kneading the ID in his gloved hands.

"Were you the CSI who checked the other three bodies too?" Morgan asked, bending down to the body as well.

"Indeed I was," Gregg replied, adjusting his glasses with his wrist. "This is technically my first case, you see. Not first body of course, but first case."

"And you're certain this is the same case, because?" Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"The COD was again, Carbon Monoxide poisoning. Her skin is pale, and there are no other signs of externally inflicted wounds or lacerations, plus, the make-up is quite distinctive. I haven't seen anything else like it."

"Was there anything poured down her throat?" Reid asked, still focused on the ID.

"I actually haven't checked yet. Press had been compromising the site, and I spent my initial hour just checking liver temperature and taking whatever notes I could of the scene just to make sure they don't contaminate anything else first. You know- it was a good idea, because of all _this_." Gregg replied, gesturing to the stream of cops and detectives pooling in the area. "I never had to do that with the past three Vics."

"That was because none of them were daughters of the Solicitor General of Defence." Morgan replied with a smirk.

"Actually," Reid's brows furrowed. "This Vic might not be Ruth Frasier either."

"What do you mean, kid?" Morgan asked, staring at Reid.

"This ID is a fake." Reid mumbled, passing the plastic bag over to Morgan, who looked at it intently with Gregg. "The picture is the exact same one as Garcia has on record, but the hologram doesn't reflect the same picture, and if you bend the card, it secedes slightly into two layers."

"You're right, kid." Morgan replied. "So who do we _really_ have here?"

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hi there! As usual, thank you for reading, and for all the reviews. I have finished writing the next chapter, and it's mostly technical stuff, but for the sake of continuity, I will post it as well. There could also be hidden clues in there, although you could kind of skip it if you get bored. This chapter is more relationship-centric, but nonetheless, I hope it was all right. The next chapter will be far longer. Thank you for reading!


	7. Supplementary

Garcia jumped awake from her springy armchair, as her David Bowie ringtone roared on. Straightening her dress (same one she wore a day ago) and clearing her throat, she routed the call to her desk phone, and paged the call through. Morgan was calling, and it was obvious, because she had a code display for every member in the unit. Morgan's was 'cocoa buff', a clear choice, as Garcia also liked having cocoa puffs.

"You have reached the office of the sleep-deprived, but still seriously mystical Penelope Garcia. How may I help you, sir?"

"Hey-"

"Pause it there. I see a magnificently sculpted man on the other side of this line. Could it be, could it be…" Garcia interrupted.

"Baby Girl," Morgan couldn't help but smile. "I need your help."

"Speak and be heard, my lovely." She sipped on her, coincidentally, hot chocolate drink. It was stale, and barely warmer than room temperature. She set the cup down, cringing in horror.

"We suspect that our Vic isn't actually Ruth Frasier at all. You think you could run a quick fingerprint analysis for us, and maybe- simultaneously locate the real Ruth Frasier? Her father claims not to have seen her around in the past week or so, so her partner was the one to report her missing."

"When you say 'partner', do you mean like a _business_ partner, or a _partner_-partner?" Garcia asked.

"Partner-partner." Morgan smirked.

"Okie-dokes, and presto! Ruth Grace Frasier, born 13 February 1991 to a Walter Brendon Frasier, not be confused with Brendan Fraser, though she does have the looks. Oh, and a Mary Christine Frasier. Ruth here gives Doctor Reid a run for his money. Wow, she was accepted to accepted to both Brown University and Princeton with her near 2200 score on the SAT. Seems she decided to attend Georgetown instead, and she dropped out early last month for reasons unknown, but oh, I will find out. According to her Facebook statuses, and her Instagram page, she seems to be dating one Michelle Farer, and you're right, she contacted DC Metro three days ago to report Ruth Frasier missing," Garcia rambled, one habit that hadn't changed over the years. A loud beep resonated from one of her numerous speakers. "Whoop, I have fingerprint results, and wow, this is very complicated. So apparently, I put a rush on the DNA results, don't ask me how because I shouldn't talk about it, but DNA is an exact match, but fingerprints are a non-match, and it's been checked numerous times to no difference in results, my love."

"What if Ruth Frasier had a twin?" Gregg said.

"What?" Morgan replied, surprised that Gregg had overheard the earlier part of the conversation. He had only just put Garcia on speaker.

"How about an antibody analysis? Lupus." Reid said quickly after.

"Yes!" Gregg shrieked. "Identical twins naturally have the same DNA, so through an analysis like that, you won't be able to differentiate between who is who. However, twins are still prone to individual ailments, diseases, and they each build their own immune systems. Now, we'll refer to this big group of white blood cells, basically, like- lymphocytes and phagocytes, but what we're really concerned with is the lymphocytes because they produce the antibodies that help us to differentiate between two identical sets of DNA. All we need is a blood sample."

"And how do you presume we get a blood sample, assuming that this isn't actually Ruth Frasier?" Morgan reasoned.

"We'll have to find her then." Reid stared at Morgan.

* * *

"We can't be sure right now. Let the police investigate." Rossi said, his voice just about the level of the background noise. The place was flooded with the press, and paparazzi. Cameras were flashing every other second, mostly from hi-res cameras with long lens extensions. Everyone wanted a look at the victim.

"Agent Rossi, have there been any crimes like that so far?" A young woman asked, her cameraman grounded by her side.  
"We are currently investigating the crimes here, so we can't divulge anything to the press." Emily replied in place of Rossi. She blinked as another flash went off from above. She assumed it was lightning. There was no sound. Another second later, another flash went off. She looked up to see a large man taking aerial pictures. "Sir, you can't do that!" She yelled, directing an officer towards him. At that instant, most of the news anchors and reporters made a beeline for the building's entrance as well. Suddenly, there was peace.

"This is a bloody nightmare." Emily murmured to Rossi.

"Can we get the body covered up, please?" Rossi shouted over to Gregg, still hovering over the body.

"Yes, sir!" He replied with a thumb-up.

"Do we have anything new, _at all_?" Emily asked. Rossi shook his head. This case would only become more complex.

* * *

"The CSIs had to use UV light so that the prints could be seen," a detective yelled; his voice fighting to be audible over the commotion from bystanders and press alike. "The rain kind of morphed it, but that isn't such a bad thing since we already have photos and collected whatever we needed to. At least in this case, those buggers can't get pictures of it."

"Well, we believe that our killer, or what we call Unsub, is organised and methodical, and killers like that usually follow the news about their crimes, so in this case, the lack of news coverage might aggravate him." Hotch replied, trailing closely behind the detective with JJ. "Our agents are withholding information for now to see if we can draw him out."

"Nothing we can really do about it. The weather struck faster than we could react. It is a pretty massive wall, in a pretty complicated neighbourhood, so all the more, right? We couldn't do much damage control, but I'm open to any ideas, Agent Hotchner."

"Yeah, we have Agents Rossi and Prentiss on that. They're speaking to the press. Hopefully, we'll be able to contain whatever we have here for the time being, but we're trying to get our Unsub to slip up. Also, has anyone revealed the identity of the victim to the press, detective?" JJ asked, meandering steadily through the streams of officials.

"Well, a hundred dollars goes on a yes. As far as I know, I didn't even hear about the earlier victims before I was assigned to this today, Agent Jareau. That's how much press the vics got before this one." The detective shook his head in disbelief.

"Officer," the detective finally stopped at the base of a tawny-coloured wall. The wall looked as if it had been sloppily 'attached' to the side of the building just as a final resort to keep it from keeling over. The paint had started to fade at the corners and in the centre, although it was mostly covered up with various forms of explicit graffiti in a multitude of colours, all faded now, of course. A grotesque, older officer peeled the crime scene tape away, giving the detective and the agents closer access. "Thanks, Jonas." The detective mumbled. "Right, I don't have a physical copy of the photo right now, but I believe Agent- what was it, uhm, Royce? No, Rossi, had a copy sent to him. I assume you haven't seen it?"

"Uh, we have seen it, but we haven't examined it yet." Hotch replied with a half-nod.

"You guys got tablets or something, right? I sent it to those. You guys and your federal funding, I can't even get new Kevlar for my guys." The detective snorted. "But jokes aside, I hope you have them now."

"We don't, but I can get Garcia to transfer them to us." JJ replied, as Hotch nodded. "It's already on our phones." JJ continued moments later.

Holding their bright screens to the side of the wall for comparison, the officer flipped the switch of a large panel of UV lights, turning the wall a shade of gamboge. A luminous cyan under the lights, the words 'I see you' were plastered across the middle section of the wall in a neat, straight line, about six feet from the ground (a quarter of the wall). The words looked to have been brushed on, with the bristle marks obvious at the ends and beginnings of all the letterings.

"No fingerprints found yet, and we can only confirm that the words were not written in blood, nor any sort of bodily fluid whatsoever." The detective folded his arms across his chest, and they rested precisely on his protruding belly. "Just out of curiosity- is this a common thing for you guys?"

"We can't say it is," Hotch replied after a pause. He looked at the (now) smudged letters on the wall. The rain had caused some of the ink to begin dripping down the façade of the wall. "But in whatever case, we don't particularly like unsubs that do this."

"And why not?" The detective asked, maintaining his stance.

"They almost always have an ultimatum." JJ mumbled back, gawking at the wall. "And those never end well, detective."

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter is more case-centric, but I hope it encapsulated the characters well too. You'll hear more from Will in the next one!


	8. Nugatory

"It's late," Hotch mumbled, as the team around the table fell silent. JJ was really beginning to be jealous of Garcia. Garcia was probably taking a nap in her tech cave with nobody supervising her, or asking her questions when her brain clearly needed a break.

"It's early." Rossi smirked, pointing to the draggy wall clock. "Eight in the morning. The _normal_ agents will probably get here soon, Aaron."

"You're right. Everyone's dismissed. Go take a nap or two. I'll see you all back here at ten... Uh, make that ten-thirty." Hotch nodded.

Sluggishly, the haggard agents made their way to their respective cubicles and offices. In fact, Hotch had petitioned for a room to be pardoned for agents' rest. It was the first right down the hall, away from the bustle of the bullpen, and then some, until one would reach a quiet corner of the building. The door of the room was labelled 'rest area', but for somnolent agents like them, it was more of a slice of heaven than anything else.

JJ's phone rang, as she dragged her feet down the stairs. "Jennifer Jareau," she answered, barely having the energy to be bothered with the caller ID.

"Hi there, Jen, it's Jessica."

"Anything the matter, Jessica?" JJ rubbed her sore eyes.

"Is Henry sick today?"

"No, not that I know of. Why? What's wrong?" JJ frowned, making her way to her desk.

"So- is there any reason Henry wouldn't be in school today?" Jessica asked politely.

"He isn't in school?" JJ sighed.

"No," Jessica replied. JJ could hear a commotion on the other line from the other children. "Would Will happen to be taking him here instead? Maybe it's traffic, you know, there's this jam around North Capitol because of some police work- but there's no rush or anything, we're just going through art class with the colour wheels and whatnot."

"Yeah, could be," JJ shook her head. "You know what- I'll call you back as soon as I can."

"Sure thing." Jessica replied. "Just take care, okay? You sound tired."

"Hmph, I will. You too."

JJ, hands akimbo to her waist, made her way quickly back up to Hotch's office. Completely forgetting her manners, she burst through the door, wanting to tell him before she'd call Will. "Hotch," JJ panted slightly.

"JJ-" He looked up from his desk, cluttered with notes and paperwork. "What's wrong?"

"I just got a call from Jessica- I mean, well, what if the dresses are fitted to the colour wheel? It makes sense, if you piece all the colours we have so far. They're all within each of the colour triads."

Hotch nodded, quickly scribbling it down on a notepad. "Nice job," he mumbled, his pen scratching furiously on the piece of yellow paper. "Is everything all right?" He looked up at her again.

"Yeah- no, it's just some family stuff."

"Do you need the day off?" Hotch's brows furrowed.

"No, no, I'll get going." JJ stuttered, shutting the door behind her as she scurried to the corner of the catwalk. Frantically, she checked her phone for voicemails and texts from Will- all turning up naught. Dialling his number, the only one besides Hotch's that was burned in her mind, she waited for the stagnant beeping to end with bated breath.

"Detective Lamontagne." Will answered almost mechanically.

"Will!" She heaved a sigh. "Oh my God, Will!"

"Jen, what's wrong?" He asked, _almost_ not recognising her distinct voice.

"Is Henry at school now, or are you taking him there? Jessica called me, and I was worried sick that something happened!" JJ ran her fingers through her hair, realising how mad she must have looked.

"Yeah, we're fine. I forgot it was Thursday, but I'm taking him there right now, Jen." He mumbled. "I'm so sorry, I just didn't want to stress you out or anythin', you know- I mean, I just forgot for a moment."

"Yeah, nice tactic, Detective Lamontagne. I wasn't stressed _at all_." She shook her head in disbelief.

"I said I was sorry, babe." Will sighed.

"Yeah, okay, fine." She replied, her free hand covering her mouth. "Just- stay safe, and be careful, would you?"

"Yeah, I will. See you later." Will nodded, his head down. The traffic jam was bad, indeed. He only had two concerns then: getting Henry to school, and his appointment with Susan.

"Daddy, are you catching bad guys today?" Henry asked from the rear seat in his toddler chair. He was playing with the teddy bear he always liked.

"Yeah, buddy, I am." Will replied with a smile. The car was not moving, and neither were the ones in front of his.

"Why aren't you wearing your super suit?" Henry asked innocently. Will hadn't donned his uniform, neither his badge.

"I'll do it when I get to my headquarters. I'm undercover, remember? Hush-hush stuff." Will joked.

"Right!" Henry replied with a broad smile, and a finger on his lip. "Shhh…"

Will lied.

* * *

"Hey, Emily, do you want some breakfast or something?" Reid asked, his eyes barely looking at her.

"No, but- thanks, Reid." She knew he was angry. It didn't take a profiler to sniff it out.

"Common courtesy." He replied coldly, gathering his bag and slinging it over a shoulder.

"Reid," she said, stepping in front. She stretched out her hand, just enough for her fingertips to graze his upper arm. He stopped his tracks, tilting his chin just enough for her to see how much anger he had. "Do you need to talk about something?" She asked, although she knew the answer.

"No, not really, but I think _you_ should start talking about things too." He gave her a perfunctory smile before trudging out of the bullpen. He didn't even bother turning around. Emily was left speechless.

* * *

"JJ pointed out something crucial this morning," Hotch spoke; glancing at JJ, whose eyes never left her file. "JJ?" He sought her attention. "Would you like to share?"

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, snapping out of her trance. "So, I was thinking, what if the dresses were done in the colours of the colour wheel? I mean, we all learnt it in school, and the first three Vics had dresses ranging from light green, to purple, then dark red. It matches one of the triad patterns."

"Could mean that something happened in his childhood. They still teach that in schools, right?" Rossi remarked. No matter how tired, Rossi always managed to look fresh without a strand of hair out of place, JJ thought, as she nodded.

"Or it could symbolise a rainbow, or happiness." Morgan added nonchalantly. "But how does that fit into our Unsub's MO? I mean- up to now, we've categorised our Unsub as a mission-orientated, young, white male. If he didn't have daddy issues, or issues with a paternal figure, then the fault has to be on the maternal one."

"Assume his mother was a prostitute, Garcia, how difficult would that be to find?" Reid asked, his arms across his chest.

"Oh, my dear sweet genius, if our Unsub is young, I'd assume we're looking at the eighties or even the seventies, and well, people back the didn't have the luxury of internet sites to blog about their habits- so it would be _very_ difficult indeed." Garcia replied.

"Factoring in the dump site locations? She would most likely have worked there, or went to church there." Reid continued.

"Again, people didn't really have Facebook back then, and I would highly doubt that they'd list employment information on their tax brackets as 'prostitute on 14th Street' now, would they?" Garcia cringed.

"Worth a shot." Reid muttered under his breath, only to find Emily looking at him. Her look wasn't half as cold as his.

"How about the origin of the dresses? Have the CSIs come back about it yet?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah, and apparently the fabric is pretty commonplace." Garcia sighed.

"How about carbon dating?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, they tried that too, and it seems to be about thirty years old, and if you want to be _super duper_ exact- it dates back to 1981."

"Any specific location?"

"No, not that we could find, although CSI Gregg kindly left us some notes," Garcia slid a file across the table to Reid. "And by 'us', I kind of mean you, boy wonder."

Reid flipped intently through the messy sheets of notes that Gregg left down, which were mostly out of page order. His eyes scanned the pages, leaving notes burned in his amygdala at an alarmingly fast rate. Finally, he found himself on the page on the dresses, where hidden in the mess of carbon numbers were, '_high residues of CO, NO2, and benzoapyrene_'.

"Benzoapyrene," Reid mumbled, as the whole room stared on. He was in his own world again. "Of course- our Unsub is from Louisiana!" He remarked, louder than before. He was very certain.

"And why do you say that, Spence?" JJ cringed.

"Right, so- in the early 80's, a huge oil bust hit all secondary oil towns, including Louisiana, which caused the price of oil to drop from forty-eight a barrel to almost twelve. Basically, economics took over. Supply and demand became so skewed that Louisiana's unemployment rate hit thirteen-point-two percent, one of the nation's highest in-"

"Reid." Hotch interrupted.

"Sorry." Reid paused. "So uh- naturally, as unemployment skyrocketed, so did the habit of smoking within the society, which made Louisiana's adult-smoker society one of the most prevalent in America, with some of the highest percentages _ever_ recorded. These levels of nitrogen oxide, benzoapyrene and carbon monoxide matches concur with those figures exactly, if you do the math, of course." Reid took a deep breath. He was rambling again. "These dresses are from Louisiana."

"And if the dresses are from Louisiana, chances are, our Unsub is too. This guy is way too sentimental to break his MO, and I doubt he'd break tradition for this too." Emily added. Reid couldn't avoid staring at Emily. She was right.

* * *

**Author's Note:** School, yes, school. I'm into my first year as an IB student, and life has literally been winding twice as fast as it used to. That said, I hope you guys forgive my absence, and I will try my very best to post regularly. Thank you for the new follows and reviews! The story's just getting good…


	9. Time Out

"Hotch," JJ said, trailing behind Hotch as he left for his office. "Hotch." She continued as she caught up to him.

"Sorry. I didn't hear you just now." He turned around, putting his phone away.

"Yeah, you're hearing's never been great." JJ forced herself to smile.

"It hasn't." Hotch said with a straight face, and then a gentle smile formed on his lips. "What do you need?"

"I need- the day off, if that's possible." He looked at her with concern as she began to stammer again. JJ rarely stammered, and Hotch knew it very well. "Look- Aaron, I know it's unprofessional, and if you need me here, I will be here. I just feel like something's wrong and I feel like I should to check up on Henry- and Will. Will's been weird lately, and I just-"

"JJ," Hotch interrupted, holding her softly by the elbow. "Do whatever you need to do."

"Thank you." JJ exhaled. "I'll be back as soon as all of it clears up."

"Take the time you need." Hotch nodded. "I'll keep you posted if there are any new leads."

* * *

"Hey," Morgan mumbled, as he made his move towards Emily's desk. She jumped as he spoke. "Woah, sorry there, princess."

"What do you want, Morgan?" Emily said with frustration. Thankfully, she was alone at her desk, and Reid wasn't at his.

"Talk about a warm welcome, huh?" Morgan smirked, taking a seat on the extension of her table. "What's going on?"

"What's going on is that I'm doing my job, and you clearly are not." Emily hissed, shuffling her case files about.

"I am doing my job," Morgan shook his head, spinning her pivot chair around so she would look at him. "I am doing my job as your friend, and I deserve to know what's going on."

"That's the thing with you, Morgan," Emily replied, her cold gaze mixing with his. "You don't _deserve_ to know everything about me. You said it- we are friends, and friends don't do that." Morgan was dumbfounded. "If you will, _buddy_," she continued sarcastically. "Your friend here is very stressed out at the moment, because no, she is _not_ on her period, but she has had an hour of sleep in twenty-four, and she has a job to do."

Without another word, Morgan left her table with a shrug. He made his way back to his own office, away from the bullpen. Emily heaved a sigh of relief as she picked up her pen from her untidy desk, and went back to work. She looked away for a moment, only seeing Reid return from the pantry with another cup of coffee. He had been drinking more than he usually did, then again, Emily could have just been overthinking it. Common as it was to be sleep-deprived with their job, this was just one of the uncanny cases where one would have been more sleep-deprived than ever.

She quickly looked away, watching JJ approach the bullpen side door with her bag slung over a shoulder.

"JJ," Emily said, getting up from her chair. "Where are you going? Is anything wrong?"

"Yeah- no, just some house stuff I have to check on. I'll be back soon." JJ nodded, hurriedly making her exit. Emily didn't get any chance to clarify. It was unorthodox, especially for JJ.

"Where is she going?" Reid mumbled, settling in his cubicle again. He paused as he realised that he wasn't really on the best terms with Emily. He sat down as she looked back at him.

"I- I have no idea," Emily stuttered. "I think she's going home."

"Really?" Reid chortled softly, barely audibly enough for Emily to hear him.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing." He shrugged, picking up loose sheets to work on. People who didn't know Reid would have just assumed he was okay. But Emily knew Reid... He wasn't okay.

* * *

JJ felt sick. She knew something was very wrong with Will. The feeling had been eating her alive for days, but she wasn't going to succumb to it. She wanted answers. For a whole year, ever since Henry starting going to playpen every morning, he had never so much as been late. Today was supposed to be a normal, average Thursday with the only exception being that Will had donned a ring on his fourth finger. She felt that something was awry as she stopped the SUV outside the porch.

The lights in the master bedroom had been left on, which was strange for 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Will was at work, and Henry was at playpen- there _shouldn't_ have been anyone at home. JJ approached her door, fitting her key into the lock, and then entering- all without a peep. Instinctively, her right hand made its way to her holster. She just prayed that the damned wooden tiles wouldn't betray her this time. And then there was creaking at the steps. JJ drew her gun. Nobody should have been home- at least, nobody she knew. There was a loud thud, and then a pair of familiar cold eyes met hers in some kind of a deadlock.

"Fuck!" JJ yelled, pointing her gun back at the floor. She rarely swore now, and when she did, it had to have been a big deal.

"Jennifer," Will replied, raising his hands, just as he did barely a week ago to Izzy. "You're not supposed to be home now."

"Well- neither are you!" JJ bellowed, shoving her gun steadily back into her holster. "Why are you back now? Aren't you supposed to be at work or something?"

"Uh- I was, but I came home early. I swapped shifts with Johnson. His kid was uh- sick or something." Will replied moving towards JJ to hug her. "Why are you home, sweetheart?"

"I had the feeling something wasn't right." JJ said, returning the embrace.

"Everythin's fine, babe." Will replied, walking to the kitchen with two mugs in hand from the counter. "I know, I probably made you worry this morning with Henry and all, but I swear, it just slipped my mind."

"Haven't you noticed that a lot of things have been slipping your mind?" JJ sat on the barstool, rolling the sleeves of her purple sweater up.

"Oh yeah, I guess," Will replied, biting his lip. He placed the two mugs, now full of water, on the counter. "It's probably just because I'm still thinking a lot about the whole bank explosion thing, and I haven't been focusin' a lot on you and Henry, and I should because you're both more important to me than anythin' else should be."

"You should take care of yourself too, Superman." JJ smiled, as he took her hand from across the narrow counter. Will gave it a light squeeze.

"When are you going back to work?" Will smiled, taking a gulp of the water.

"I took the rest of the day off." JJ grinned, squeezing Will's finger, the action of which, vaguely reminded the latter of squeezing the trigger of a gun. He flinched slightly. JJ didn't notice. "It'll be some time before we have to pick Henry up from Mrs Robinson's place."

"And?" Will deftly replied.

"I have some ideas about the _activities_ we could uh- do from now until then." JJ smirked.

Will paused, and then took another sip of water. "Jennifer, not that I don't want to, but I think we could maybe do something else- like uh, plan for our vacation. Where did we say we were going again?"

"Singapore, remember?"

"Yeah, how could I forget?" Will nodded, looking away.

"I don't know, but that doesn't matter, right?" JJ smiled. "I'm just glad that we're finally doing this."

"Me too. We should do it more often, you know? Show Henry that family's important and stuff." Will mumbled in his thick accent. "Love's important."

"And _there's_ the hopeless romantic I know and love." JJ grinned, looking into Will's sapphire eyes.

"I'll get the laptop, dear." Will stood up, his fingers slipping away swiftly from JJ's. "If you're hungry, I have a sandwich in the fridge from that bistro you like."

"Didn't you go there last week too?" JJ furrowed her eyebrows. The fudge brownies there were divine, but the trip all the way to 22nd Street to get it was usually off-putting, especially for Will. But Will was never really at 22nd Street. He was always on 23rd.

"_I did?_"

"Yeah," JJ nodded, making her way to the fridge. "Last Monday. It was cheddar-cheesecake-Monday, and you brought one back, remember?"

"I guess." Will cringed, making sure JJ wouldn't notice as he pulled the laptop out of his full duffel bag.

"_Shoot_." JJ muttered under her breath as her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. It was Emily. She picked it up, and needless to say, Hotch needed her back in the office. They had some kind of a new lead.

"_Really? _So much for day off." Will smiled shyly, leaving the laptop on the bar counter.

"I'm sorry Will. Duty calls." JJ shrugged, sandwich bag in hand. She grabbed her keys and bag, and she walked towards the door. Shoes were strewn around it again. It was strange, since Will had never been the messy kind. "Speaking of duties- don't forget to pick Henry up, okay?" Will nodded.

"Oh, and- how many people in D.C. are from Louisiana? Not a lot, right?" JJ asked passingly, slipping her feet into her boots.

"Quite a bit, maybe? My old man and I loved to travel, but not so much with my mum, so we didn't travel often, but yet I'm still here, so my gut would be- a lot of people." Will shrugged. He never really spoke about his mother. Then again, the last time he saw her was almost an entire year ago. She didn't even show up for the wedding.

"Just asking." JJ smiled. "And uh- is there anything you want to tell me?"

"No." Will shrugged. "You know _everythin_' there is to know, Jen."

JJ smiled in reply.

* * *

"Hey Em," JJ greeted as she found Emily at her desk. "What's so urgent you couldn't tell me on the phone?"

"Hey- so uh, Garcia's been referencing the list of Louisiana natives with people in D.C. that currently fit the profile all afternoon." Emily licked her lips, looking around furtively. "Look, only Garcia and I know this right now. We haven't told Hotch yet; but- Will is one of the twelve guys that matched out profile."

"What?" JJ gasped, shaking her head. "You know Will isn't capable of this. It must be a mistake."

"I know, I know." Emily sighed, pulling JJ away to a quieter corner of the bullpen before she resumed the conversation.

"So why is he still on the list? Take his name off, for goodness sakes!" JJ exclaimed, loosening Emily's grip on her arm.

"We can't, JJ."

"Why the hell not?" JJ was adamantine.

"All right, just answer one question, and we'll leave it like this, okay?" Emily bit her lip. "_Do you know_ that he hasn't been in at D.C. Metro since the whole bank explosion fiasco?"

"He's just swapped shifts."

"No, JJ, listen to me- Will hasn't been at work for almost a week."

"That's not possible, come on, I'd know. I'm his wife."

"JJ, you told me that he's been shaken up since the explosion. The timeline fits, JJ. How sure are you that he's fine?"

JJ was speechless. Her throat went dry. She couldn't speak. Her spirit was emaciated… because she knew deep down that Will was different- but it just _couldn't_ be. Now JJ was the one who wasn't fine at all.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Things are heating up! I haven't really decided what's going to happen next in the series, but I have a general direction for it. I will keep updating as soon as I can! Keep leaving reviews! x


	10. Wily

"I trust him," JJ folded her arms, stifling the tears from falling from her cerulean orbs. "He must have some explanation. The man I sleep next to every night is _not_ a serial killer."

"Do you know where he is right now?" Garcia bit down. She hated seeing JJ like this. She was trying hard not to cry herself.

"He's at home with Henry."

"Are you sure?" Emily asked, leaning on Garcia's elongated desk. Emily spoke softly.

"_God damn it_, Emily, yes I'm sure!" JJ exclaimed, shaking her head in denial. "And you don't have to fucking whisper in here! Garcia's doors are bolted. You want to say something? Say it. Nothing can _ever_ be worse than this."

Emily was dumbfounded. She wasn't surprised though. As if almost losing Henry and Will last week wasn't enough.

"Jayje," Garcia muttered, taking JJ's hands. "It could just be a coincidence. We don't even know for certain. The profile Hotch gave me just listed that our Unsub could have had problems with his maternal figure; I couldn't filter that all out. Will wouldn't-"

"Will's never been close to his mother." JJ remarked, barely giving anyone eye contact. The more she dug, the more perfidious Will appeared. It kept getting worse- spiralling into something _actually_ tangible, which was what Emily and Garcia were so worried about.

"But Will's out of the age range for our profile."

"He's only two years older than I am." JJ muttered. She was on the verge of throwing up. "_He fits the stupid profile_."

"I mean- so do nineteen other people. We only have one Unsub. It doesn't mean-" Emily spoke.

"I wish you guys hadn't told me."

"Jayje, we couldn't hide it from you, and we didn't want you to come in to work and see Will's name up there on the screen. We haven't told Hotch." Garcia said, squeezing JJ's hands. It was almost the same way that Will used to squeeze JJ's.

"_Yet_. You haven't told Hotch yet." JJ sniffled as tears spun in her sockets. "If you guys aren't taking his name off the list, then you might as well just tell him."

"What are you going to do with Will?" Garcia stopped JJ from standing up.

"I'm going to uh- call him." JJ mumbled.

"Are you sure you want to do that right now?" Emily asked with concern. She was in no state to reason, and Emily knew it damn well.

"Well, I can't just go home and pretend that nothing has happened, Emily!" JJ bellowed, throwing both hands in the air. Then there was silence. The tension in the air was impeccable. Garcia shed a tear, and Emily looked away. JJ had enough of being interrogated like an Unsub, and she wasn't planning on letting Will go through it unless she knew for certain.

* * *

"Will," JJ choked as she heard his voice on the other side of the line. "Where are you?"

"At work. I swapped shifts with uh- Johnson, remember?" Will replied. It almost sounded truthful.

"And Henry?" JJ looked away, staring at one of Garcia's cat figures. The soft pink pallor of the room never made her feel colder.

"With Monica." Will's voice echoed in her mind. JJ didn't know what to believe anymore. "I told you I'd handle it."

"Yeah, you did." JJ sniffled as tears began rolling down her cheeks.

"Anything wrong?" Will asked. He seemed viscerally concerned, but it wasn't convincing enough to have shaken JJ.

"No." JJ replied firmly. "Nothing is wrong at all."

"Well then- I have to get back to work, babe."

"Go." JJ nodded, wiping her tears away. She hung up without another thought. "Give Hotch the list." JJ said affirmatively, an acrid taste resonating from inside her mouth. Now she _really_ wanted to throw up. Emily and Garcia glanced at one another. It was all in their eyes. They had the same thoughts.

"JJ, are you _sure_?" Emily said with a small gasp as she unfolded her arms to steady herself against the sturdy table. "We can't take it back."

"Yeah, Emily, I'm sure Hotch wouldn't consider Will as a suspect anyway." Garcia nodded, gripping the ends of her pivoting armchair.

"It doesn't matter." JJ's hands clung onto her knees as she took a deep breath. "Will's been lying over and over again, and I've just been too stupid and blind to see any of it."

"JJ-" Emily said in response. JJ's eyes had begun to swell from the tears; her eyes had turned a ruddy shade. Emily had never truly seen her cry before.

"Stop it, Em." JJ shrugged. "I'm going to go check in on my babysitter and make sure Henry's all right. You guys can give Hotch the list. _It's done_."

Garcia and Emily shared another look. Both acquiesced JJ's request; standing up to exit the room. Emily patted JJ's back softly. She didn't really know how else to show her support.

The door swerved shut. JJ spun her phone around on the smooth table top in the quiet. She unlocked her phone, trying her best to ignore the photo that Kevin took of her, Henry and Will at the wedding _just days ago_. It was falling apart so quickly- it was as if she was freefalling from cloud nine right into hell. She broke down, sobbing as her eyes trailed the familiar contours of Will's face. She married a liar, and now, she was turning into one too.

* * *

"I could go in and tell Hotch, Emily." Garcia whispered, breaking the silence as the duo approached the familiar office overlooking the hustle of the bullpen. Emily nodded, gesturing to Garcia as she made a halt outside the office. Emily watched intently as Garcia entered the room with her usual manila file. It looked like any other file from any other case, but it was embedded with JJ's future, as well as the team's. The door slammed shut, and Emily stood by her solitude on the elongated catwalk. Slowly, she rested the weight of her tired, sore back on the concrete blue wall, and exhaled sharply. The job was just repeatedly taking tolls on her. It only made her feel like her decision to leave the unit was a wise one. Of course, she wished she was convinced otherwise, but in reality, she really wasn't. She felt selfish and asinine to even wish that this case would've happen after she was gone, because she couldn't just leave JJ and the team like this, even if the case were to be closed.

She watched from her peripheral vision as Hotch drew his shades again: a second time this week, and the second time in the year. Sorting it out was going to take some time. A fair bit of time.

* * *

"What's going on?" His croaky, medium-pitched voice rang from her left side. Emily was slightly startled as she was snapped out of her congesting thoughts.

"Hmm?" She replied dazedly. He came out from nowhere. She was on her way to the bathroom to freshen up.

"Come on, Emily. Whatever's going on is serious, and I can tell, no matter how much you try to keep me out of it. I'm not five, and you can't just keep doing this over and over again. I demand to know!" Reid yelled, pulling Emily aside. His sudden initiated contact sent shivers up her spine. Reid had never liked contact, and he was never the one to instigate it for that matter.

Emily yanked her hand out of his grip instinctively. "_Woah_!" She replied, finally reminding herself to keep her volume down. The last thing she would want to do for JJ was to spread the word to the entire office. It was a federal office, but oh, the agents really could gossip about anything.

"I'm so sorry," Reid sighed, acknowledging his lack of restraint. "Emily, I really need to know." Emily looked around at the meandering endless stream of agents buzzing around the long corridor. Without another word, she opened the door to one of the numerous file rooms scattered around the building, and pulled him inside it with her. She made sure that the shades were down too. She flipped the light switch on. A miniscule light bulb in the center of the room illuminated the narrow closet with a yellow tint. The room smelled stale; somewhat of sweat and ageing paper. Emily could only imagine the unethical things that had occurred in the room prior.

"_Emily_?" Reid mumbled, as Emily leaned on the grey metal table right beneath the light bulb. Reid had never been there before. She took a few moments to gather her thoughts.

"I feel like you should have the right to know what's going on." Emily said, hands akimbo to her slender waist. Reid leaned against the cupboard, looking right at Emily. "Look, Garcia spent all afternoon narrowing a list of potential Unsubs down for us."

"_And_?" Reid gulped, his throat getting dry. He wasn't quite sure if it was the room, or his nerves, or just being alone with Emily that made his hair stand on end.

"And- Garcia got hits on twenty people in town."

"Great, a uh- short list." Reid nodded. He knew there had to be more to it. "_What's the catch_?"

"Will is on that list." Emily said, deadpan. She didn't know how else she could say it. The crammed room suddenly felt hollow.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Reid murmured; his tone had changed. It almost sounded sympathetic.

"Well, Garcia and I spent an hour in her room just trying to reason with JJ. None of us can believe it. We just found out."

"Did you take Will's name off the list then?"

"No." Emily shook her head, looking away. It felt like she was being wallowed alive- consumed by her guilt. Then again, she couldn't have done anything else about it. "We couldn't."

"I mean- JJ and Will just got married after so long."

"Which doesn't make any of this easier." Emily added, almost defensively. There was a long pause. Emily could feel her heart pounding aloud.

"There's something else you're not telling me." Reid's brows twitched slightly as Emily struggled to find the right words. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged from her throat, as if she was rendered useless instantaneously.

"This _really_ isn't the time." She pinched her lips together.

"Really? It's just the both of us here in this what- despondent room. When is the time then? What can you _not_ tell me in here, Emily?"

"I-" Emily paused, taking a deep breath. She had stopped even thinking about the repulsive, pungent smell of the room.

"You two," Morgan interrupted, opening the door with an intrepid amount of force. It almost looked as if he could have torn the door apart from its hinge. "Woah, uh, Hotch needs us urgently… If I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, we were just talking." Reid replied, with a lugubrious smile as he made his way out of the room. "Nothing really important." Reid sniffled is disbelief.

"Good, because I have a feeling what Hotch is going to talk about is." Morgan remarked perfervidly.

* * *

He approached the familiar door with hesitance. The hall was barely illuminated for one to navigate themselves around the desolate building. He knew she was in there; traces of the light emerging from the room bursting through the cracks in the door. His free hand quickly found the doorknob. He twisted it and pushed through; the actions of which only reminded him of how Izzy had manipulated him. The thought of it all never ceased to taunt him.

"Will?" She said, aghast. "You're here."

"Yeah, Susan." Will replied, barely showing teeth as he mumbled.

"How are you- feeling? All right?" She asked, rising slowly from her seat.

"Angry." He replied, drawing a sharp, reflective object from his turgid duffel bag- the one he brought back from the precinct earlier that day.

"Will-" Susan's hands shot up mid-waist; her open, empty palms for him to see.

"I feel really angry, Susan." His jaw twitched, as he propped the bag on the floor behind him.

* * *

**Author's note: **Hey everyone, thank you for all the cool reviews for the previous chapter! I'm trying to commit myself to posting an update or two a week, so stay tuned! Thank you for reading, and I hope you don't hate me for leaving the chapter like that!


	11. Ingénue

"_Shut the door._" Hotch's voice bellowed in the room as the profilers gathered quietly around the round table in trepidation of what was to come. Morgan and Rossi had been kept in the dark, but even then, it didn't take an expert to figure out that something was very dire indeed.

"We _never_ shut the door, Hotch." Morgan broke the tense silence, barely flinching in his seat as Rossi, the last one in, bolted the door shut.

"I know." Hotch replied with a straight face. He ended the sentence with a sigh. He nodded at Garcia, as she pulled up the long list of names on the bright screen. If one didn't look hard enough for it, the name 'William LaMontagne Jr.' wouldn't have appeared to be on the lengthy list. Sadly, it was.

"Hotch, why is-" Morgan stammered, staring at the font size eighteen name in Cambria. "Wait, is that…?"

"Yes." Hotch mumbled, taking a quick glance at JJ. She barely looked at anyone around the table. Everyone turned to her.

"_Shit_." Morgan muttered under his breath. "But we know Will. He isn't capable of this kind of thing, Hotch."

"Morgan, stop." Emily shook her head with a cold gaze.

"I'm just saying, his name shouldn't be up there. Out of all these people, he should be the first one we rule out, otherwise, what's the point of this? We know the guy. For goodness sakes, JJ got married to him." Morgan retorted, slightly agitated.

"We have to be objective about this, Morgan." Rossi mumbled. It was always hard to know what he was thinking behind that facade he kept so well.

"Well yeah- but I'm just saying, JJ's sitting right here." Morgan shrugged. "Do we know where Will is right now, or where he was when all of this began?"

"She's under enough pressure, Derek, please." Garcia interjected, her hand firmly around her bedazzled remote. She couldn't help but to think it was her fault, and if she would interfere with JJ and Will's relationship. Suddenly, fourteen letters made all the difference in the world.

"So it's _just me_ that trusts Will here?" Morgan's tone elevated. JJ sat quietly, her mind twirling about like a hurricane. She just wanted some kind of silence for a while, and certainly to be away from the ruckus.

"Morgan." Hotch frowned, his lips tightening into a straight line.

"What, Hotch? Can't I defend my friend? We're all thinking the same thing now. Will didn't do it. He just couldn't have."

"Will you all just _shut up_?" Emily exclaimed; a dense cloud of silence fell on the room like a heavy blanket. "Can we let JJ think, just for a while? We're all stressed, but let's keep in mind that none of us are freaking married to Will, all right?" There was stillness as the tumultuous exchange halted.

"Will _hasn't been_ Will." JJ swallowed hard. All eyes were on her again. "He's changed. I know it's been just a week since the bank incident, but- he's different. It's ironic that I can profile any given guy in any given public area, but I couldn't even tell what was wrong with the man I sleep next to, but it's the truth... Will fits the profile… And he has no alibi. Not me, at least. "

"Well, he hasn't had medical training, and I don't think you have a gas chamber in your basement either." Rossi reasoned.

"Will's part of D.C. Metro, remember? All detectives go through basic first aid training." Reid twitched, wishing he hadn't needed to clarify the point.

"We have a warehouse lot we bought for Henry's toys and our old things. It's big enough. I haven't been there for a year. Will's the one that handles it. It's under my name. Not his." JJ bit her lip. Emily took her hand, squeezing it as she spoke.

"So where is he now?" Morgan asked, propping his pen onto the table. There was nothing he really wanted to jot down.

"He says he's switching shifts with Detective Johnson from the precinct." JJ cringed. "I called the station, and he hadn't been at work for a whole week. He only took two days off, and he hash't showed up since."

"Can we just analyse all the other suspects first before we jump to rash conclusions?" Hotch sighed… but JJ knew in her heart that it was not some kind of Gadarene.

* * *

He had been in Susan's office for just over half an hour. Time moved quickly for Will. It felt like the clock could never stop spinning, especially after the wedding. He could never sleep. He lay on the couch, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. He was exhausted.

"I really didn't want to come here, Susan." Will murmured, shutting his eyes. "I didn't mean to do this to you. _Not today, _you know_?_"

There was silence.

"But I really had to be here." He sighed. "I couldn't take it no more. The pressure of being at home was just _so much_. I'm sorry for taking it out here, Susan."

There was some sort of heavy panting in the room, and Will propped whatever was inside of his grasp onto the floor. It landed without much of a sound. The sharp sounds of gasping faded, and suddenly, the room had a staleness in its aura. Will could hear the buzzing of his phone, which resided in his stuffed duffel bag. He didn't plan on answering it. It was probably JJ. He was aware that she knew something was amiss. He didn't need her to know… the last thing he wanted to do was to scare her away.

Unwittingly, he had already begun doing just that.

* * *

"I know you all are tired, but-" Hotch sighed, setting his file on the table.

"Hotch, we get it." Morgan interrupted. They all nodded. This was for JJ.

"All right, then get to work, everyone." Hotch pressed his lips into another tight line. His wrinkles became more pronounced than ever. It was an '_occupational hazard_', JJ liked to call it on brighter days. It always made him smile. Hotch only wished she could do the same now.

JJ nodded at Emily. The latter stood up with the rest of the team, making a prompt exit from the room. JJ pretended to be oblivious about the _'inconspicuous'_ looks the other agents had begun giving her. The door thumped shut again. She looked away. And as she finally got up to make her way to God-knows-where, Hotch spoke again.

"JJ," he said like a murmur. She looked at his tie, and then his eyes, and then the collar of his shirt. She wasn't the least bit sure what she could say. "If you need to go home and be with Henry-"

JJ shook her head. Her mother was on her way to help out with Henry. He was going to be okay, but she didn't want to explain herself to anyone else.

"Go get some rest. It's been a long day."

"I _can't_, and you know that." JJ choked. She had promised herself that she wouldn't cry. She was breaking that promise. Hotch nodded, looking away from JJ.

"My office." Hotch mumbled. "You can stay there. Take as much time as you need to, and if anything happens-"

JJ nodded, wiping away a stray tear. She couldn't help but to think that Hotch had felt this way when he was with Haley.

* * *

He drove down the alley, in some kind of a jet-black SUV, which was vastly different from the one he was accustomed to patrolling in. The car was Susan's- apparently. Will had donned some sort of a sable-coloured cap, which cloaked most of his face with a dark shadow that swooshed about as he drove under the envelope of the lampposts that lit up the street. The only visible parts of his skin were now the slits of his fair ankles and the stubble-ridden skin on his neck. With caution, he pulled up to the street sign, looking around for signs of other cops. When the coast was undeniably clear, he parked the vehicle under the shadow of a decrepit, tall building.

With earphones plugged into each ear, he robotically opened the trunk of the SUV. It was too con natural for Will. It almost seemed effortless as he carried an onyx plastic zipper bag out of the trunk, with most of the weight resting on his good hand instead.

The body bag, the same kind that coroners used, was light, even though a body had been meticulously packed in it. He settled the crackling sack onto the cold concrete ground, making sure his cap wouldn't just fall off. He looked up at a bright white light in a distance, nodded, and then devoted the rest of his attention to carefully slipping the lifeless form out of the container. He took a step backwards as he finished his job, and mumbled almost without propinquity, "does she look beautiful". It sounded like a mantra- not a question. He nodded. "Yes", he said again.

He returned to the car, taking the long route back to God-knows-where.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The reviews you guys have been submitting have been so encouraging. I hope you guys are waiting for a plot twist, and of course, there will be some coming up, but I don't think they'll come in the way you would expect them to, and I'm really excited to see how all of this pans out too. Thank you for reading!


	12. Loom

"Hey," Garcia smiled warmly, trudging into Hotch's office as JJ lay on the couch. "You've got to eat."

"Penelope, I'm not in the mood." JJ mumbled, the back of her hand firmly pressing against her forehead.

"Well, most people are never in the mood for work, but that doesn't mean they can choose to do it or not." Garcia retorted, setting a sandwich and a cup of green tea on the lamp table next to JJ. No matter how much JJ denied it, she really had been starving, and she just wanted a break. She _almost_ forgot about the bedlam that ensued in the bullpen- all her friends scrambling to find _her_ husband. _Her_ husband, who was a suspected serial killer, the kind of person she took an oath to chase. It became more ironic as she thought about it, and no matter how hard she tried not to, it only came back to her, twofold. "Jayje?" Garcia prompted, taking a place on the leather seat diagonally across her. JJ managed a nod.

"Everyone's looking for Will, my love, and everyone on that list fits the profile some way or another, which is obvious- but not for Will, but- my point is, the odds are good, Jayje. It's going to be fine, and we're working on it, and all you should do is wait for it to be all right, because that's what will happen _eventually_."

JJ shut her eyes, replying Garcia with a quaint smile. She just wanted to cry it out, but she couldn't. It wasn't right, neither was it professional.

"I'll be fine, Penelope." JJ mumbled.

Garcia knew she was vulnerable, and she knew JJ would never want to be seen like that, especially at the office, so without another word, Garcia stood up. Her clacking heels became softer progressively, until none could be heard. As soon as the door was shut, JJ felt nauseous, her stomach's contents feeling like they were going to erupt from knotted messes inside her. She got up quickly, covering her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. None of it was 'all right'. It was just muffled sobbing- over and over again.

* * *

The bullpen was buzzing as usual, but it lacked the voices of the team's members. They were all furiously scribbling away on pieces of yellow foolscap paper, just trying their best to eliminate those on the list. The same thing was on all their minds. All of them were worried that they'd subconsciously choose some guy to take the fall just to give JJ relief as soon as possible, but the notion of it was dismissed quickly, although it came back after looking at each suspect.

Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan took the coffee table at the pantry; Garcia returned to her room; and Reid and Emily remained at their usual office cubicles, their minds all iterating the same profiling techniques over and over again: _e__valuate the act; match it to the crime scene; compare the victims; evaluate the reports; check the profile. _

Then Reid broke the tense silence with a croaky mumble.

"What were you going to tell me?" He said, only audible to Emily who sat across from him. Both of them barely flinched, their minds all vigorously toiling away at the seemingly bottomless sheet of names.

Emily sighed. Reid knew. "That bad?" He asked rhetorically. She nodded, and he picked it up with his peripheral vision. "Well, how long have you been up?"

"Almost a full day, plus or minus. Doesn't seem like it makes much differ. Difference." Emily shook her head, her eyelids heavy enough that they felt they would just fall shut spontaneously. Moving only made her feel worse. She looked as emaciated as JJ did.

"You can take a nap, you know. It's all hands on deck, but-"

"I'm okay, Reid, I really am." Emily replied with quick dismissal.

Reid was taken aback, lifting his head to check on Emily before he finally went back to working again. He then realised how futile his anger had been. And then his phone rang.

"Spencer Reid." Reid mumbled, looking away as he picked up the call.

"Hey, Agent- I mean, Doctor. Uh, Doctor-Agent-Reid."

"Who is this?"

"It's CSI Gregg? Remember me from the crime scene yesterday?"

"Yeah, I do." Reid said, glancing over at Morgan's table. Hotch was busy on his phone too.

"Hey, I don't know if the Detective has called you, but another body was found on uh- 23rd street. South corner, along one of these alleyways."

"You're there right now?" Reid raised his eyebrows. Emily turned to glance at him, as they exchange mutual looks.  
"Yeah, and I can tell you that there's something _different_ about this victim."

* * *

"Our Unsub's devolving." Emily remarked, looking down at the body in the alleyway. It was a dim corner, the light from the lampposts barely lighting it up enough for any of the agents to see. Hotch and Reid had proceeded to ward off the press. The case had become heated ever since Ruth Frasier's body had been found- or her twin, of course.

"Fast." Morgan blurted, maintaining his stance over the body as well. The victim looked impeccably similar to the first few: dark hair, relatively middle-aged, and had a small-built. The dress was of cobalt blue in shade, adhering to the same colour wheel scheme JJ had proposed earlier.

"Her eyes aren't open. Did something interrupt our Unsub?" Reid asked, squatting down next to the victim. He looked up to see the Pope's Shrine, and some other buildings that were brightly illuminated behind it. That part seemed to make sense. "How long has she been dead for?"

"Rigor hasn't set in yet, and judging from the liver temp, I'd say she's been dead for only two or three hours." Gregg replied, squatting adjacent Reid with a camera. The flashes of which, illuminated the alleyway indefinitely for a flash second at a time.

"I don't think he'd be interrupted. Look at this neighbourhood- I doubt it's advisable to stay out past ten out here. Even if there were witnesses, none would probably come out to testify… You know, we could have been seeing this the wrong way. What if all the victims were sedated before death anyway?" Emily remarked, being cautious not to fold her arms with her gloves on.

"I mean, we did agree on the profile, a capable man with a medium build in his thirties. A man like that wouldn't need to sedate these women. Plus, their sizes could just render them easier for transport." Morgan replied.

"True, but the M.E.s didn't find any trace of drugs in any of the victims." Reid replied, looking at Emily with crooked lips.

"The drugs could have metabolised too quickly for detection, right?" Emily asked, squatting down to examine the body as well.

"Do we have a name, Gregg?" Morgan interrupted, as Emily examined the female' arms.

"Nope. She didn't seem to have an ID with her. No purse, no wallet, nothing."

"Strange. The dresses don't have pockets, and all the previous Vics had purses on them, so the Unsub must have left them there. He didn't do it for her. Maybe it's personal." Morgan folded his arms.

"I don't see any puncture wounds on her arms, or her neck." Emily frowned. "If he did sedate her, it must have been with a small-gauged needle, or an orally-administered drug."

"We could get the M.E.s to do a Nihydrin test on all of the Vics and see if we get anything, like- fingerprints, or maybe needle marks." Gregg replied. Emily nodded. "I'll get it called in right away then."

"Thank you." Emily sighed. "Uhm, have you noticed anything else that's different?"

"Nope. She has brown eyes, I believe. Just like all the other Vics."

"_Huh_." Reid mumbled.

"What, Pretty Boy?" Morgan smirked.

"Will has blue eyes, doesn't he?" Reid asked rhetorically. Both Morgan and Emily nodded. "Statistically speaking, most people with blue eyes have blonde hair."

"Like JJ." Morgan interjected abruptly. "_So_? It's not impossible."

"The alleles for such a gene is generically highly unlikely to-"

"Reid." Morgan shook his head firmly.

"Well- if we said that the Unsub comes from a dysfunctional family, and he is looking for females that embody his maternal figure, his eye colour would be the least likely being blue. That said, to have a child with brown hair and blue eyes, like Will is already quite rare. Having a child with blue eyes, and a mother with brown eyes and brown hair- that's very rare, considering the fact that Will's father had green eyes. His mother would probably have had blue eyes."

"So- Will's not the Unsub because of eye colour?"

"I'm starting to wonder if you even like good news at all, Morgan." Reid smirked. "Call Garcia."

* * *

"Ah, Derek, just the person I needed to talk to." Garcia spoke quickly. He could tell that it was urgent.

"Baby Girl, that has been the first warm welcome I've gotten today. And it's nearing twelve." Morgan said with a chortle.

"Yeah, and as much as I would love to give you some sugar, my sweet, Ruth Frasier just came forward to the press, and it has been 911-Ground-Zero in the office. The phones have been ringing off the hook! People are literally calling me, and it's-"

"All right, sweet cheeks, calm down." Morgan smirked. "Send me Frasier's address, so we can talk to the family about press control."

* * *

Will woke up without knowing where he was exactly. The only clear thing he remembered was falling asleep in Susan's office. And now, he found himself back on the same couch, in the same position. He assumed that he just fell asleep because of exhaustion. He was wearing the same clothes as before, although he felt groggier than before.

"Susan?" He mumbled between cringes. He grunted as he got up. There was nobody in the office. He buried his face in his hands, realising that it was already twelve. Then he rubbed his sore eyes. He had arrived at her office at _eight_. Yet, he was dead-beat, even after some four hours of _rest_.

The heavy door was pushed open slightly, as she stepped back in.

"Susan." Will exhaled, feeling his muscles tingle under his hoodie. "Where have you been?"

* * *

**Author's Note**: I'm not super proud of this chapter because I wrote this one within a far shorter time span than I did for most other chapters. School. Anyway, I hope this update leaves you with lots of question marks. I hope I'll be able to have some Will/JJ interaction in the next chapter and see how this pans out from there. Thank you for reading! x


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